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<Open RP> The Enchantress's path

Vermilion found herself alone, separated from her group. The great fall... then the river... she was miles away, dying, the Cure having brought her to this place. She looked at the herb in her broken, bleeding hand and despaired- yet rejoiced.

"I am free..." There was no point in wasting such effort, and she slowly brought the herb to her mouth.

A shudder, then her hand went numb, Vermilion released the herb and it fell onto the ground. All the way out here, she was followed. Hounded really. She looked up to see her sight blur into a haze of Scarlet, unaware that a figure stood over her, another woman in formal attire with brilliantly long, red hair, her gloved fingers holding a blood-stained steel syringe- a syringe that embedded itself into her brain. Vermilion could feel something vital- something that made her identity- being slowly taken away.

"Red is such a pretty color... and you've painted yourself a pretty, pretty red." Scarlet said, holding Vermilion by the chin, then letting her die, the cadaver finally falling limp on the ground. Scarlet stows the syringe away within the folds of her red coat.

"Sleep now, forever more, my daughter." She whispered, leaving a single red rose and a kiss on the body, collecting the sword and leaving the jungle.

Mount Targon

Vermilion awoke, shuddering in a cold sweat, sitting down by herself in a cave in the deep snow. Another dream, another memory. She could almost smell the jungle- the wet humidity of the Kumungu. She could almost taste a bitter herb in her mouth.

Another one. She could feel experiences- skills and powers flowing into her - names and faces of people. Vermilion cringed at each death- but she could not face her mother about them. She peered outside, the drums of war sounding. She picked up her spear and adorned herself once more in the fur of a Targon frost wolf- the Rakkor tribes were going to war, and she would find battle today.